Sweet Tyranny
by Griselda Banks
Summary: Oneshot. "Love is a sweet tyranny." Alphonse Elric opens his heart and talks about the one person he loves more than anyone else: his brother. I pity you if you think this is Elricest.


**Author's Note: This is a companion piece to "Kill and Save Me", but by no means do you have to read that fic to understand this one. When she read "Kill and Save Me", my friend made a request (and consequently made my day) for a similar fic from Al's perspective. I had to take some time to distance myself from the other one and ponder Al's viewpoint, so I could make his thoughts and perspective different enough from Ed's. Listening to some good mood music helped a lot, because it made me think about all the things the brothers have done for each other, and just how beautiful it all is. Building up that emotion inside me was crucial to getting inside Al's head. I hope I've conveyed the sense of wonder I felt when pondering these things. I also drew on my experiences as a younger sibling, and my older brother who is one of my best friends.  
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_For NewMoonFlicker, debatably the most wonderful person in the world._

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_Love is a sweet tyranny, because the lover endureth his torments willingly._

_- Proverb_

_I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me. I love you for the part of me that you bring out._

_- Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

_The most I can do for my friend is simply to be his friend. I have no wealth to bestow on him. If he knows that I am happy in loving him, he will want no other reward. Is not friendship divine in this?_

_- Henry David Thoreau_

_After loving you, I could never be the same._

_- "Never Be The Same" by Red_

Have you ever loved someone so much it hurt? I have. Most of the time, it _doesn't_ hurt. Most of the time, it's just there, and it's the most ordinary thing in the world, something that will never change or go away. But then sometimes I look over at him, and something inside me just _aches._ And it's a very strange feeling; for one thing, I don't have a body to feel pain, yet it hurts; and for another, it's not a painful pain. That probably sounds like utter nonsense, but it's true. That's the way it feels. Like pain, but at the same time not. Because pain is a negative feeling, and this is anything but negative. It's almost like a longing, only the longing is for something I already have. And it makes me want to cry, but it makes me want to laugh at the same time. It makes me want to go conquer the world, and yet it makes me want to stay put forever.

Love is the most confusing thing in the world.

Maybe I should say who it is that I love so much. Or maybe you could already guess. It's my brother.

There's a funny thing about brothers. You can't choose them, so that means you're stuck with them for life. Most boys respond to this by bickering with their brothers and hating them – or at least acting like it. It puzzles me why most brothers don't follow the more obvious course: Since you can't get rid of your brother, be his friend, and you'll be close for the rest of your life. Doesn't that make so much more sense? And what I love about having a brother for a friend is that since he's family, he didn't choose you by any stretch of the word, so that means he doesn't love you because of what you look like, or what you've done, or even who you are. He just loves you because he _does._

Am I the only one to have an older brother like that? I sure hope not. I think everyone needs a brother, even if that brother isn't brother by blood. A brother understands you better than anyone else can, because he was there the whole time. A brother can understand what you're thinking or feeling at a glance, and a brother can tell you he understands with just the slightest of smiles or the smallest of gestures. And when a brother is there for such a large chunk of your life, he has the capacity for making you so much better of a person.

I think when you love anyone, it enriches you – makes you more full, more understanding, more gracious. Partly by example, but also because loving that person requires you to make those improvements yourself. My brother and I often joke around that he sets a bad example for me, but you know what? Seeing my brother flying off the handle at the least offense makes me calmer and more understanding of people who slight me. Watching my brother turn violent or bitter makes me gentler, softer. And when I see my brother's determination, or how he gives up everything to protect the ones he loves.... You can't imagine what that does to me.

I never knew the full details of what my brother did and said after the Gate took me away. I knew nothing between the time the world turned dark around me till the moment I first came to consciousness in the suit of armor to find my brother lying on the floor with two bloody stumps for limbs. But when we told our alchemy teacher what we'd done, I finally heard what had happened. By that time, my brother had gotten deep enough in the story that he seemed to be reliving every moment, as I was. It seemed I could see him, alone and racked with pain in that dank dungeon of a room. I could almost hear his voice, screaming for me to come back. Then he said it, and I could hear the scream in my ears as if we were there: "I'll give you my leg...my arms...my heart...anything you want, just give him back. He's my brother!"

He would give his own _heart_ for me. The thought staggers me, even now. He was willing to give up his _very life_ just on the chance that it would bring me back. He went so far as to draw a transmutation circle – with his own lifeblood – on his chest in case the Gate wanted his heart. And if I didn't tell him quite firmly that my heart would break if he did it, he probably would try it again.

How can anyone fathom a love like that? If you look at my brother, you probably wouldn't guess that he would do something like that. Even if he was seven feet tall, he would never be big enough to contain such a large heart. Most of the time, my brother's so flippant or infuriating that I forget what he's done. But then sometimes I look at him, and something reminds me – the little hairs at the nape of his neck beneath his braid, his automail hand lying clenched casually on the table, or the sharp corner of his chin. The things that remind me often don't really have anything to do with it, but I notice a detail, fondly familiar to my accustomed eyes, and suddenly it all rushes over my head: _That's my brother. He gave up his arm and leg for me, and he would give up everything else if he had to._

It's then that I feel an ache somewhere deep in my soul, deeper than the void where I can't feel a thing. I want to hug him, I want to somehow voice how much I value what he's done for me, and what he does each and every day. But I know if I did, he would say, "Sheesh, Al, why're you getting so sappy all of a sudden?! It wasn't _that_ big of a deal!"

But it was, Brother.

He might get embarrassed and shrug it off, but I'll always think of it as the most selfless, heroic act in the world. He gave up everything just to be with me. He keeps himself in a sort of sweet tyranny under me, never truly happy unless I'm happy, never satisfied until I'm whole. And I often feel like I don't deserve something like that, but I think that's the point. Equivalent Exchange has nothing to do with love. I _don't_ deserve my brother's affection. But isn't that the beauty of love?


End file.
